


Santa, I can explain

by DaveandKen_Archivist



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-14
Updated: 2010-05-14
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaveandKen_Archivist/pseuds/DaveandKen_Archivist
Summary: Starsky & Hutch do a big favor for an old friend





	

**Author's Note:**

> by Dararose.
> 
> Note from the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Dave & Ken's Diner](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Dave_%26_Ken%27s_Diner), which experienced a drop in traffic to low levels following the opening of the official Starsky & Hutch archive. Still wanting to preserve the archive, Open Doors began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. An announcement was posted to OTW media channels, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the archivist using the e-mail address on [ Dave and Ken's Diner collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/daveandkensdiner/profile).

 

Story Notes:

Follows Hey, June and Epiphany

 

  
An errant ray of morning sun made its way annoyingly through a tiny  
crack in the bedroom curtains.   It came to rest on the nose of the  
dark-haired man and perched there, like a bird, peering into his  
face, willing him to wake up.  Subconsciously aware of its presence,  
he tried to bat it away a couple of times before he succumbed to its  
insistent nagging.  He forced open eyes that were slightly bloodshot  
and mattered.  Fighting away a headache which had been niggling at  
the back of his skull for the last couple of days, he instinctively  
centered himself by locating his partner.  Once he saw that Hutch  
was in his rightful place beside him, the sudden burst of achy  
tension started to ease  from his shoulders and back and his face  
took on a pleasurable glow of anticipation.

Hutch lay on his side, turned away from him, snoring lightly.   
Normally they started the day as they'd ended the one before, woven  
tightly together in a bond that would not be broken, but Starsky had  
slept fitfully and Hutch had unknowingly severed the connection in  
an attempt to get some rest for himself.

It occurred to Starsky, every morning when he awoke, that there was  
more to appreciate in life than there had been the day before.   
Coming so close to death had created in him an almost insatiable  
zest for living.  He wanted to experience everything and nothing  
looked better to him than the feast before his eyes.  Even the  
occasional day, like this one, when he didn't feel exactly up-to-  
par, were to be treasured.  He propped himself up on an elbow,  
reveling in his partner's beauty.

He studied the myriad subtle tones of gold in his hair where the sun  
had combed her fiery fingers through its lengths….The light  
scattering of freckles on his shoulders….The strong muscular arms  
and broad shoulders tapering down to a much trimmer waist than had  
been there a few months ago. He admired the silky-fine blond hairs  
which graced Hutch's arms and legs.  The light brown skin that had  
retained a bit of its summer tan and reminded him of the color of  
honey.  He followed the line of the man's back as the tan faded and  
slowly got lighter and lighter.

"Now those are sugar cookies, for sure.  Mom's big puffy ones, good  
enough to eat."  he muttered.

"Just try it and you'll find yourself on the floor." came a voice,  
muffled by the pillow.

"How'd you know what I was talking about?"

Hutch rolled over onto his back and confronted his partner.

"I've heard your cookie theory before," he said  
conversationally.  "In fact, it seems like just about every part of  
me reminds you of some kind of food."

"That's just not true."

"How do you explain the blintz nickname?  And then there was that  
thoroughly entertaining dissertation about Polish Kielbasa.   
And….Starsk, were you breast fed or bottle fed?"

Starsky flushed.  "How should I know?  I don't go around asking my  
mom things like that."

"I'll bet you were breast fed and weaned too soon.  You have a major  
oral fixation going on.  Did you know you've always got something in  
your mouth?"

"Maybe I should shove something in yours, Dr. Freud.  How long have  
you been sitting on this particular conundrum?"

"Conundrum?  I am impressed.  Don't you want to know what makes you tick? You could change the  
course of your life."

Desperate to quiet him, Starsky covered Hutch's mouth with his own  
and shared what he considered a very satisfactory oral experience.   
Hot, steamy minutes later, their lips parted company, leaving both  
of them slightly breathless with passion.

Starsky looked deeply into promise-filled, sky-blue eyes which  
sparkled like a crystal Christmas ornament. He was overwhelmed with  
a timeless, passionate love for his partner.  It was a special  
moment, one filled with romance and the scent of phantom roses in  
the air.  And then Hutch had to open his mouth.

"And have you heard my theories about your toilet training  
experiences?"  he asked innocently.

"All right, that's enough,"  Starsky roared.  "You've had entirely  
too much time to think lately."

He pounced on his lover and flipped Hutch over onto his stomach.   
Pressed tightly against the other man's back, Starsky knew he was  
virtually helpless.  He attacked a pale pink earlobe and pulled it  
into his mouth.  Ignoring Hutch's squirming, he sucked hard for  
several moments and then popped it out to see if it was a suitable  
shade of red.  The other morsel got the same treatment.

"Do you like my oral fixation, Blondie?" Starsky purred in a husky  
voice.

"I refuse to answer on the grounds that you may tend to dominate  
me."

"I'm already doin' that.  I wanna hear you say it."

"All right, all right….I love it,"  Hutch gasped, as Starsky began  
on his neck, sucking and nipping lightly, the way he knew Hutch  
loved.  "But…no hickies."   He tried to squirm out from under the  
weight of his lover.

"Oh, don't worry, your collar will cover 'em up.  You're not a cop  
anymore, we don't worry about things like that."

"I-I-"  Hutch gave up and moaned the rest of the sentence.

Starsky's right hand stole around to Hutch's nipple and amused  
itself with torturing the tender nub of flesh.  His left trailed  
down the smooth bare chest and belly to the thinly-furred nest from  
which his lover's thick shaft stood straight and solid.  As if on  
cue, there was an sharp intake of breath from each of them.  His own  
thick, rigid organ was in a torment of anticipation from being so  
tightly restrained between Hutch's body and his.

"Starsk…"

Aware of all of the implications that one word held, Starsky  drew  
back one hand, and after making himself slick with pre-cum, guided  
his cock to the one portal of the other's body where the two could  
truly be made one.  Plunging deeply, he traveled home in one thrust.

The dance began slowly, sensuously, an erotic waltz ripe with  
beautiful sensations and soulful reminders of who they were with and  
what they meant to each other.   Remembrances of other couplings in  
romantic places flitted through  their senses like brightly-colored  
butterflies; the rightness of them together becoming almost  
overpowering.

A staccato Latin disco beat began to intrude; their need became so  
strong that they ceased to think. There were just mindless motions  
remaining; both  of them working together to scale the mountain and  
fall exhausted onto the ground.  Starsky's fingers intertwined with  
Hutch's, but as the tempo increased, his left hand returned to his  
partner's groin, took hold of his shaft  and began the ministrations  
he knew would give the other the most pleasure.  Hutch raised  
himself from the mattress and began to meet Starsky's thrusts with  
such intensity that the smaller man had difficulty holding the  
strong, muscular body in place, and began murmuring mindless  
soothing love words to calm him.  They each were carried on the  
crescendo of their own symphony now.  Hutch's closing notes came  
first and Starsky's followed shortly after, their shouts mingling  
into one triumphal cry as their bodies collapsed, limp and spent, on  
the bed.

After a few minutes of  trying to catch his breath, which led into a  
coughing spasm violent enough to alarm Hutch,  Starsky speared him  
with his eyes.

"Hutch."

Hutch obligingly turned his head toward him.

"Hmmmm?"

"Tell me, all that stuff about being breast-fed was just to get  
yourself laid, wasn't it?"

"Worked, didn't it?"  Hutch asked , eying him speculatively.

"You're manipulative, you know it?"

"And I suppose you aren't?  I could remind you of a time or three…"

"I wouldn't do that.  If  I wanted you to make love to me, I'd just  
ask.  I don't need to resort to underhanded methods like that."

"And Dobey is skinny, Huggy is fat, the sky is green and the grass  
is blue and…"

"Okay….okay, I'm headed for the shower.  I feel like I've been to  
hell and back."  Starsky slowly dragged himself off of the bed and  
headed in the direction of the bathroom.

"You're not very good at pillow talk, you know it?"

The full effect of his words hit him and he turned, disconcerted.

"I didn't mean that, Hutch.  The lovin' was wonderful.  Just feeling  
older than my age today, I guess."

Concern plowed a new groove in the already prominent furrow on  
Hutch's brow.  The shooting had  compromised Starsky's lungs,  
creating a variety of problems for him.  Infections could result in  
serious complications, so Hutch was vigilant in watching out for his  
partner, who often refused to admit when he wasn't feeling well.   
The last week, he'd been concerned about his partner's cough, but  
Starsky had assured him it was just irritation from his  
allergies.  `Have I been believing him because I wanted to or  
because it's true?' he asked himself.

He touched Starsky's face.

"You feel feverish.  Are you okay?"

Starsky pulled away from him, chuckling.

"Christ, Blondie, we just had mind-blowing sex.  How long do you  
think it takes Mt. Vesuvius to cool down after erupting?"

"Good, you are, Mt. Vesuvius, you're not.  I'll fix us something to  
eat.  We're gonna need it."

"You planning a return engagement?"

"Not anytime soon.  We have to get to the mall."

Starsky groaned. 

"Now that you mention it, maybe I am feeling a little sick.  I don't  
know if I can handle another night like the last one."

"No way….it's like Hack and Zack.  Both of us or nothing.  You think  
I'm enjoying myself?  Just remember we're doing this for Bernie.  We  
owe him one.  He's done this every year since he retired, but this  
year with Selma in the hospital…"

I know, Hutch….as well as you, maybe even better, just how much we  
owe Bernie.  And I'll be there tonight, but ya can't make me like  
it."

"It's almost Christmas, Scrooge.  I never thought I'd be the one  
giving you a pep-talk on the spirit of the season."

Hutch cupped his partner's face with his palm, running his thumb  
over the full lower lip.

"Hey, I'm gonna spend every day celebrating you being alive and  
twice as much on every holiday.  Get used to it." he whispered, his  
voice husky at the thought of what he'd almost lost.

The deep blue eyes sparkled and the lop-sided smile slowly slid its  
way up Starsky's right cheek.

"With you doing all that celebrating, maybe I can get a little rest,  
huh?"

  "No way….No man is an island, nor does he celebrate alone, at  
least not this man.  Now, hit the showers, buddy."

*********************************************************************

Bay City Mall looked like a giant ornament box tipped over by a  
curious cat.  People gathered in small groups, darted here and there  
on a last-minute errand or strolled leisurely through the stores,  
thankful to have most of the shopping done.  The noise was an  
overwhelming force, decibels high enough to break the sound  
barrier. 

Hutch had to listen closely to the shy voice of the chubby six-  
year-old on his lap.  His leg was cramping and his neck had gone  
numb from having to bend over to listen.  Thankfully, they only had  
an hour-and-a-half left to go.  He was beginning to regret making  
his partner come tonight.  If Starsky had stayed home, Hutch would  
have had an excuse to remain with him.

Playing Santa had been a kick the first couple of nights, but the  
unruly kids and their interminable lists had begun to get to him.   
He loved children, but preferred to take them on one at a time,  
rather than a whole gang of them.  `Big. strong ex-cop you are,  
Hutchinson, you'd take on the bad guys before having to deal with a  
few little kids.'  The devil on his shoulder jumped up and hollered back….'At  
least you can shoot the bad guys.'  That really alarmed him.  He  
remembered the Christmas a few years ago when he'd dug in his heels and made everyone else miserable with his attitude.  He hoped this  
Christmas would be a good one for his partner.  Last year, he'd been  
out of the hospital, but still convalescing and it hadn't gone very  
well.

"Santa, I can explain...are you listening to me?"

Hutch scratched his chin where the fake beard was chafing him and  
turned his attention back to the boy.

"Sure, Tommy….I mean Timmy.  Santa heard every word you said."

"I just wanted to make sure you understood about the cat."

"The cat?"

The child was getting impatient.

"What I did to the cat.  I wanted to make sure you knew I was  
sorry, `cause I don't want coal in my stocking like my teacher said  
you used to leave."

"What did you do to the cat?  Never mind, Santa doesn't want to  
know.  Just don't do it again, okay?  And try hard to be good next  
year, huh?"

"I will….I really will.  Thanks, Santa."

'Yeah, right,' Hutch thought cynically as the boy skipped down the  
steps and re-joined his parents, happy to have gotten redemption for  
a particularly heinous crime.  He was happy to see that there was no  
line of children for the first time that night.

He signaled to the photographer that he wanted to take a break and  
she put up a sign saying they would be back in fifteen minutes.  It  
worried him that he hadn't seen Starsky for awhile, and he winced as  
he craned his neck to look over crowds that were beginning to thin  
out a little now.

`He's probably so embarrassed he found a place to hide.' Hutch  
thought.  He knew Starsky had gotten the short end of the stick on  
this gig.  Playing Santa was bad enough, but running around in an  
elf suit was not exactly making a happy camper out of the former  
detective.  He was dressed in a green tunic top reminiscent of Robin  
Hood, green tights, a long-tailed cap, which he had to constantly re-  
adjust because it wouldn't settle on his springy curls and soft  
shoes with curled-up toes and bells on them.  Hutch had been  
fascinated by the tights.  It had kept him so pre-occupied watching  
Starsky moving around in those damn things that he feared he hadn't  
been attentive enough to the job at hand.  It was all his childhood  
fantasies come to life in a real grown-up way.  Hutch smiled.  He'd  
kept a close eye on his partner and he also had more than a sneaking  
suspicion that for every child who wanted to sit on Santa's lap,  
there was a mother standing in line who would have loved to perch on  
Starsky's knee

He squeezed, with some difficulty, into the little gingerbread  
cottage that served as their headquarters.  Starsky was sitting on a  
chair too small for him, looking haggard and worn out.  He still  
managed a big grin for Hutch.

"Hey, is it my turn to sit on your lap yet?"

"I have it on good authority that you're getting nothing but coal in  
your stocking."

"At least I don't torture cats."

"You were eavesdropping."

"Nah, just passing by.  You oughta have kids of your own, Hutch.   
You're really good with 'em."

"I do have one of my own, meathead.  A big kid who'll never grow up  
and leave home.  What could be better than that?"  Hutch pulled the  
heavy red material on his legs away from his skin.  "Jeez, I swear  
they must have run out of Pampers in this town."

"What are you griping about?  I got thrown up on.  And that kid that  
was telling you his sob story kicked me in the shin."  Starsky sat  
up a little straighter and the light caught his face.

"You're really sick, aren't you?"  Hutch, alarmed, leaned over and  
felt his cheek.  "Christ, you're burning up."

"I'm okay, we don't have much longer to work.  I don't feel great,  
but I can make it." 

Hutch pulled him up and into what dim light there was coming from  
outside the little house and studied him closely.

"How long, Starsky?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you been feeling sick?"

"It's just allergies.  You know they've been bothering me."

Hutch`s index finger stopped just short of his partner`s nose.

"Allergies do not cause a fever.  We`re going home."

"I'm okay, Hutch.  I just needed to sit down for a little bit.  I'm  
ready to go back out there now."  Starsky moved toward the door and almost lost his balance  Hutch steadied him with a firm hand on his back.

"If you won't take care of yourself, then I will.  Be reasonable,  
Starsk,  let's just go home, get you into bed, take your temperature  
and see what we're dealing with.  Maybe all you need is some Mother  
Campbell`s chicken soup."  Hutch flashed a smile for his partner's  
benefit.

"But what about the kids, Hutch? They came to see Santa.  I don't  
want them to go away disappointed."

"I know,"  Hutch said softly.  "But we have no idea what's wrong  
with you.  What if it's something contagious?"

"But…"

"No buts.  I'm gonna go arrange things.  If you'd rather, we'll just  
stop at the hospital.  You'll make quite a sensation dressed like  
that."

*********************************************************************  
   
From behind the wheel of the big car, Hutch snuck furtive glances at  
his partner.  Starsky had ceased protesting the trip home and was  
silently staring out the window.  Hutch wanted nothing more than to  
rush him into the ER, but knowing how his partner felt about  
hospitals, his instinct was to proceed slowly and calmly, without  
alarming Starsky unduly or giving him a chance to dig his heels in.

Once at home, he got his unresisting partner undressed and into the  
same crumpled bed they hadn't bothered to make when they'd gotten  
up several hours ago.  `Had he felt sick even while he made love to  
me?' Hutch wondered.  `And if so, why didn't I see it?'

He left him with a thermometer in his mouth and went to call the  
hospital to see who was on duty in the ER.  He was reassured to hear  
that it was Carol Jenkins, who'd treated Starsky in the past, was on  
a 24-hour rotation and would be there until late the next night.  He  
asked to have her call him and went back to his patient.  
He tried not to panic when he read the thermometer.  And, of course,  
Starsky was watching his face closely for his reaction.

He sat down on the floor, his face on a level with the dark-haired  
man, their foreheads almost touching.

"Hey….it's gonna be okay.  Have I ever lied to you?"  Seeing a ghost  
of a smile, he felt better.  "Okay, I'll retract that question, but  
everything's still all right.  I promise.  Okay?"

"What is it?"

"Almost a hundred and three.  You probably have some kind of fast-  
progressing infection, possibly pneumonia, from the way you`re  
starting to wheeze.  I really think the hospital's our best bet…"

"Try and get it down first, Hutch.  Just a little more time.  It  
could just be some kinda virus or something.  I`ve been around a lot  
of kids."

"Just until Carol calls and then we do whatever she says, okay?  In  
the meantime, I'll get you some Aspirin and a cool cloth to put on  
your forehead.  Deal?"

"Deal."  Starsky looked at him with that smile that always stabbed  
right through his chest wall, grabbed hold of his heart and molded  
it into an acceptable form, very much like a child with a piece of  
clay.

Hutch got to his feet.

"Don't go away."

"I'm not movin' from this spot," Starsky promised.

With the Aspirin inside him, a cold washcloth on his forehead and  
Hutch rubbing his chest with Vicks, Starsky began to feel a little  
better.

"I love all this fuzz, buddy, but it doesn't make it easy to rub  
this stuff in.  That must be Carol."   He grimaced as the phone  
rang, holding his grease-covered hands out in a helpless gesture  
that made Starsky laugh.

He came back, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

"Suit up, partner….the lady doesn't feel comfortable with you here  
at home.  My personal opinion is that she's got the hots for you,  
but she says she wants to look you over."

Between the two of them, they got Starsky dressed and out to the  
car. He collapsed against the seat with a sigh.

"I know, Starsk, but if you do this for me, I promise I'll tell you  
whenever I want you to make love to me.  How does that sound?"

Starsky managed a wan smile. 

"Sounds okay to me."

Something suddenly occurred to Hutch.

"Tell me….was there any good reason why you didn't wear underwear  
with those tights last night?"

Starsky started to chuckle, but it turned into a strangled, wheezing  
sound that prompted Hutch to floor the accelerator.

Hutch had told Carol to expect them and she appeared, along with an  
orderly and a gurney, as they pulled up.  One look at Starsky and  
she was instantly alarmed.  Feeling his skin, she barked orders at  
her co-workers.

"Temp's way up there.  Let's get him in and get it down….stat!"

Hutch once again felt the emptiness of surrendering his most  
precious "possession" into the control of someone else.  He felt  
like he'd failed;  obviously his vigilance hadn't been enough to  
stop Starsky from getting sick, as he'd hoped.  He wandered into the  
waiting room.  He knew it was useless to fight the rules.  They'd  
know he was there and would be until they brought him some news.

It was almost two hours before Carol came out to talk to him.

"Looks like pneumonia.  He probably caught a cold, ignored the  
warning signs and it suddenly got away from him.  Unfortunately,  
that's going to be an on-going problem with his lung complications,  
so you'd both better get more efficient at recognizing the symptoms."

"I noticed him hacking, but he convinced me it was his allergies.  I  
should have known…"

"There's no way you could have.  Don't beat yourself up over this,  
Hutch.  Chalk it up as a wake-up call.  Now we know how fragile his  
system really is."

Frustrated, Hutch threw up his hands.

"What do I do, Carol, stick a thermometer in his mouth every time he  
coughs?"

"Ridiculous as that sounds, that's about it.  Fever will be the main  
indicator that something's going on.  If he complains about his  
allergies or you notice him coughing or sneezing more often than  
usual, lay down the law.  That and a physical every three months for  
awhile.  I'll give him a good talking-to before he leaves the  
hospital."

"Read him the riot act, Doc.  Look in the dictionary under stubborn  
and you'll find his picture. When do you think he'll be able to come  
home?"  

"We've got him on broad-spectrum antibiotics, but I'd like to have  
him stay for a couple days at least, depending on how he responds."

"Can I see him?"  The relief was apparent in his voice.

"Soon, Hutch.  The meds are knocking him out right now and I want  
him to do nothing but rest for a little while."

He was almost done flipping through the last of the magazine, which  
he could swear had been there over a year ago when Starsky had  
gotten shot, when someone clasped his shoulder and then sat down  
heavily beside him.

"Cap'n Dobey?  Wha-What are you doing here?  It's Christmas  
morning.  Why aren't you home with your family?"

"They kicked me out of the house, Hutchinson.  Said they'd open  
presents when I got home.  Told me this was more important."

"But how did you find out?"

"Edith has a cousin who works in Admissions.  She recognized the  
name and called me."

"Thanks for coming down, Cap'n.  You know it's really good to see  
you."

"Are you two any closer to figuring out what you're going to do with  
your lives?"

Hutch shook his head.

"We were just trying to get past the holidays before we did anything  
about it.  We both agree that we'd like to do something to help  
people, though."

"It would take some prep classes, some college courses for Starsky, but I have it on good authority  
that there will be some openings coming up at the Academy for  
instructors."

"I'll let Starsky know that."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Brain damage," Hutch said absently.  He looked up to see that Dabey  
was taking him seriously.  "But no more than he already had."

The laughter and the release that it brought him carried some of the  
tension from his body.  He urged Dobey to go back and spend time  
with his family.  Hutch was more than ready to be with his.   
Separation from Starsky was not something he tolerated well.

"We'll be back to see him tomorrow, when he's feeling better.  Merry  
Christmas, Hutch, and if there's anything we can do…"

It didn't occur to him until he was gone that Dobey had called him  
Hutch rather than Hutchinson for the first time.

He was still mulling that over when a candy striper came to show him  
to Starsky's room.

As often as Starsky had been hospitalized, he was one of the most  
intense and vital people Hutch had ever known and to see him so pale  
and still against the white sheets was shocking.  He reached over  
and brushed back one of the wayward curls which had fallen onto his  
partner's forehead. 

The deep blue eyes opened.

"I was waiting for you."

"Oh yeah, what if I hadn't come."

"Couldn't happen.  You love me too much, even if I am a pain in the  
ass."

"Just a mild ache at times.  How do you feel?"

"Like I got run over by a truck.  Did I?"

Hutch laughed.  "No, you just got flattened by a bug."

"Did you get his license?"

"Buddy, they must be giving you the good stuff.  You're liable to  
sleep for a week."

"I'm gonna miss Christmas."

"We'll have it after Christmas.  It won't make any difference."

"You gonna wear the Santa suit?"

"I'd imagine the store would want that back for next year, along  
with the elf costume."

"You looked so sexy in that Santa suit.  It really turned me on….did  
I tell you that?"

"No, you didn't."

"You know how it turns me on when you wear red.  S'my favorite  
color, 'sides skin if that's really a color."

"Does the name Pavlov ring any bells, pal?  We really have to work  
on some of your fixations."

Silence.  
   
"Starsky?"

"Hm-m-m?"

"You never answered me.  Why didn't you wear any underwear the other  
night.  Wouldn't be because you wanted to get laid, would it?"

There was no answer.

"Starsky!"

"Wha-t?" His partner startled into wakefulness.

"You heard me.  You wanted me to make love to you and that was your  
sneaky, underhanded, conniving..."

The pale shade of a grin crept over his face.   

"Santa….I can explain."  A paroxysm of giggles erupted, turned into  
a coughing fit and then trailed off slowly.  "Woulda worked, too."   
He fell asleep with a grin still plastered on his face.

Hutch chuckled and shook his head.  Tiredly he rose and went to the  
window.  It was Christmas.  It wasn't going to be a great Christmas,  
but there would be others, at least if he had his way.  He'd already  
gotten the only present he wanted.  Starsky had walked through that  
dark place yet again and come out the other side.  And if another  
day would see him back in the hospital, Hutch meant to be there to  
make sure that he recovered from that, too.

`If there ever was a love written in the stars, ordained by the  
gods, capable of overcoming so many obstacles….' he thought  
poetically.  `But it was true.  They'd  come so far, broken down so  
many barriers.  They'd face the future and whatever came their way,  
they'd handle it the way they always had.  Together.' 

THE END

 


End file.
